


Just One

by drwatsonsjournal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Octo!John - Freeform, OctoJohn, Other, Tentacles, adult Octojohn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwatsonsjournal/pseuds/drwatsonsjournal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock spends a boring afternoon at 221B Baker St. until the silence is disturbed by a noise coming from his bathroom. Sherlock investigates, and adventure ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dear betas [ laybackthinkofengland](http://laybackthinkofengland.tumblr.com) and [wiggleofjudas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wiggleofjudas/pseuds/wiggleofjudas). Inspired by this very NSFW [octojohn fanart by archiaart](http://archiaart.tumblr.com/post/58036158183/archiaart-maybe-mused-sherlock-i-should-buy-a), and [michi's octojohn headcanon](http://traumachu.tumblr.com/post/57893205205/this-is-a-note-about-octojohn-anatomy-you-know).
> 
> [Podfic of Just One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2232264) by [consulting_smartass](http://archiveofourown.org/users/consulting_smartass/pseuds/consulting_smartass)

Sherlock Holmes was sprawled on the sofa at 221B Baker St. This was not unusual, of course, as the world’s only consulting detective was well known for luxuriating in his sulks for days at a time.

Sherlock watched the late afternoon sunlight fade to dusk on the upholstery just inches from his face.

As he waited for John to come home from the surgery, he calmed his mind by listening to the sound of his own breathing. In on a count of eight, out on a count of sixteen, and the gentle awareness of the rise and fall of his own chest.

Soon it was completely dark in the flat, except for a rectangle of light from the windows that crept across the floor and wall. 

In his meditation, his awareness shifted from himself to sounds in the flat, and then to sounds in the neighbourhood. While he was deeply lost in the act of listening, Sherlock startled, hearing a crash in the vicinity of his bedroom. 

He rolled off the couch, walked down the hall and flung open the door. His room was dark, but he saw some movement in the shadows within his bathroom. 

He called out, "John--when did you get home? Why are you in the dark?"

Sherlock heard splashing. A lot of splashing. He opened the door slowly. The bathroom was full of steam, and there was a puddle of hot water on the tile floor. 

He flicked on the light, and there in the bathtub was a naked John Watson. 

In his chest, his heart pounded out a warning before his eyes and mind could register anything. "What…? John? I don't understand?" 

He had seen John naked many times, as they'd been flatmates for more than a year and lovers for several months. What surprised him were the eight gigantic tentacles thrashing and swirling around the edge of the tub. 

Sherlock looked him over and made a quick assessment: John’s head and torso, two arms, no legs, eight tentacles.

He fell backwards and caught the back of his head on the doorknob as he reached for the floor. "Ow!" He rubbed at his hair and blinked at John.

"Sherlock--are you ok?"

"Uh... yes... I am fine. I should say, are you okay?"

"I'm fine--why?"

"Because you have eight bloody tentacles, John... that you didn't have this morning."

"Oh, that. Well... I could explain, but it would be better if you got in the tub with me."

John patted the side of the tub with one of his hands, and, unbelievably, one of his tentacles. He gathered all of himself up to one side of the tub as best he could to give Sherlock some room.

Sherlock paled and took a deep breath. "Am I high on drugs? Would you please tell me if I am high?"

"No, Sherlock, you are not high."

Slowly, Sherlock stood up and removed his dressing gown and clothes while trying not to stare. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on John the entire time.

"Really, Sherlock--you can look. It's fine."

"John, this makes no sense."

"Just get in! Come on!"

Sherlock inched closer to the tub and stuck one foot in. And then the other. And then he slowly lowered himself until his backside touched the bottom. 

They sat opposite each other as best they could in the small tub and held each others' gazes as the steam rose around them. Sherlock's eyes flicked from side to side as he tried to deduce the situation from what he observed. His thoughts raced: _Moriarty, Baskerville, failed experiment, drugs, endangered cephalopods, Architeuthis, amputation, cross-species limb transplantation. How did I lose enough time for this to happen without noticing?_

"John, I… I can't… you… what?"

"Shh. Sherlock, just be quiet for once." John stretched a couple of tentacles toward him and began to caress his warm, wet skin. The look on his face was fond and almost coy. 

Sherlock shuddered at the touch. 

"Just go with it. You never let go. Just be."

Sherlock closed his eyes as one of John's limbs brushed the hair off his forehead. Another massaged his upper neck and back. Another snaked around his back and touched his left nipple, and another, his right.

"Oh… oh…"

As Sherlock leaned his head back and closed his eyes, John shifted his body so he was straddling Sherlock's legs. One of his tentacles began to curl around Sherlock’s growing erection. Another wiggled and teased gently at his arsehole. The tentacle at Sherlock’s cock pumped him slowly.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. 

"Touch me, Sherlock," said John.

Sherlock gently ran his hands along John's limbs. They felt really strong and muscular, but the skin was soft and almost silky. They responded beautifully to him, and seemed to vibrate in response to being stroked. _No different from how John is normally_ , thought Sherlock, _except for the obvious changes_. 

“I'm not one hundred percent sure about cephalopod biology, but does this mean you have another mou…?"

John suddenly wrapped a tentacle around Sherlock's right wrist, and he plunged it under the surface. John pulled Sherlock’s hand underneath him and thrust it toward his opening. In the middle of his lower body, at the centre of all his coiling and uncoiling limbs, was a mouth waiting to be filled. 

Sherlock gasped, and John’s eyes tenderly conveyed his consent. Sherlock parted its lips to caress the softness inside. Rings of muscle pulsated around his wet fingers, and John moaned at the pressure. 

He leaned forward and clasped Sherlock’s head in a kiss, pressing his torso to him as he slid up his body. Sherlock released his hand and wrapped both his arms around John’s body. 

“Yes?” he said.

Sherlock trembled as John's wet opening closed around his cock. 

John wrapped his human arms behind Sherlock’s shoulders and rocked himself up and down on his erection. The combination of the warm water and John sucking and releasing repeatedly made Sherlock feel like he was floating. It was pure ecstasy.

“John, you’re so good… it feels like… it feels like I’m fucking your mouth.”

John whispered, his breath tickling Sherlock’s ear, “You are.”

Sherlock bucked up, bracing himself as John’s powerful muscles closed around him. With each thrust, he surrendered his body to John’s. All around him, John’s other limbs teased at his most sensitive skin. 

John reached behind Sherlock and used the leverage to pull him in deeper. Sherlock was utterly obliterated. 

His abdomen tensed, and he shook violently through his release. John pulsated around him as he came in hot spurts. 

He closed his eyes and let the sensation of floating inside John fill him. He let his arms rest down on his belly. 

Except… he didn't feel his naked belly. He was in his shirt and dressing gown. He groped around him, and where he should’ve been wet, he was completely dry.

His pajamas and pants were pulled down. Against his abdomen, he felt a hairy head. 

“Ohmygod! Oh! What?” Sherlock sputtered.

John laughed and looked up as Sherlock’s softening cock fell out of his mouth. 

"Sherlock!" John called up from between his legs. "Hey… um… stop thrashing around.”

Sherlock opened his eyes and gradually returned to the sofa as the tub disappeared around him. 

"I was thrashing around? You had eight fucking extra limbs a minute ago."

"What?” John smirked. “You said once that I should wake you with a blow job sometime."

Sherlock laughed as he caught his breath.

“Well, John, you constantly surprise me. You managed to make my boring afternoon simultaneously frightening and sexy. We might have to explore this further.”

John shifted his body upward so he could nuzzle and kiss Sherlock’s cheek. 

“Mmm. Watching you come undone just now made me feel like I had a tentacle. Just one, though. Want to feel it?”

“I do.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Study in Homo-Octopoda](https://archiveofourown.org/works/957378) by [darkangel1211](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel1211/pseuds/darkangel1211)




End file.
